Wounded
by Aloysha aka Solis
Summary: Oliver never paid much attention to Percy Weasley, taking more interest in his younger brothers, but when he stumbles across a startling sight one day his entire world takes a drastic turn. (PercyOliver)
1. Default Chapter

Wounded

I don't own anything you see herein, because if I did it wouldn't be a children's novel.

Author: Solis aka Aloysha

Series: Maybe

Rating: R, as far as I can tell.

Pairings: Percy/Oliver, mainly. Ron/Draco, and Harry/Hermione on the side, with mentions of Penny/Percy and Penny/Flint.

Warnings: Alternate Universe (Since, really, Percy could be considered the only 'confirmed' straight guy…) Violence, gay bashing, homophobia, depression, suicide, and Dark (**dark)** humor.

Summery: Oliver never paid much attention to Percy Weasley, taking more interest in his younger brothers, but when he stumbles across a startling sight one day his entire world takes a drastic turn.

Wounded, by Third Eye Blind, inspired this story, but I wrote this while listening to 'Afterglow' and 'Fumbling Towards Ecstasy' by Sarah McLachlan.

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Chapter One

Visions Clash, Planes Crash

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To this day, Oliver still wasn't exactly sure what he was doing out there. There being the so-called gay section of Wizarding London, at two in the morning. From a logical standpoint, he could say he'd wandered around so much he'd just gotten lost, but he knew that wasn't exactly true. He knew London fairly well, both Wizarding and Muggle.

During the past six years of playing Quidditch professionally, the major team cities had each become like another home to him.

He was loath to admit it, but during the off season he lived with his parents. It wasn't that he didn't have the money for a place of his own, but why bother with getting one when he would only be there a few months out of the year?

The part he'd wandered into wasn't easy to get to, unless you were looking for it. A hidden door in the basement of a Muggle gay bar lead into the basement of a Wizarding gay bar. The area, in and of itself, was only made up of a few streets, with shops, bars, and restaurants, designed to cater to a person's every whim and fancy.

Oliver knew all of this because this was far from his first trip. He'd spent a fair amount of time here when he was younger, but after a near run in with a reporter, his coach had requested he be more discreet in his 'various endeavors'.

Which was to say, he didn't really care who Oliver wanted to sleep with, as long as he was careful no one found out. He didn't want to say that gay people weren't welcome when it came to sports…but they weren't. Not openly anyway.

Sure, plenty came out after they retired, but while playing…it simply didn't happen. There was still far too much against gay people and, as far as athletics went, a lot of people weren't comfortable with a gay guy showering and dressing next to them.

Oliver, personally, didn't get it. All of the guys on his team were like him, only straight as far as he knew, so why the hell would he be interested in himself? Sure, masturbation had its perks, but if he were actually looking for a partner, he'd want a little variety.

Maybe that was just him though.

Or else it was a concept a lot of guys couldn't understand. After all, since they were willing to chase after any mildly good looking girl, they assumed that all gay men must be after all men, as opposed to just other gay men, including them.

And even if they were interested, on an aesthetic level, a simple 'no' usually sufficed in Oliver's mind.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. He was thinking entirely too much for a Friday night/Saturday morning. They had just won a game against the London team, naturally, and the rest of the team had gone out to celebrate together.

Oliver hadn't been so motivated. After all, he was twenty-four years old, handsome by most accounts, in great shape, and fairly famous…

He wanted to get laid. It'd been a while and the 'me, myself, and I' routine was getting tiresome, to say the least of the matter. So he'd find someone for the night and then be headed to Ireland for their next match, and that would be the end of that. He couldn't afford anything more.

For all his musing and wondering, Oliver went along with what he was supposed to do anyway. And that was hide his sexuality from all prying eyes and put forth an image as a manly he-man, testosterone infused Quidditch Player. He felt a tiny bit like a hypocrite, but he really didn't know what else he could do about it.

The team needed be just that, a team, and if part of the team had a problem with him the entire chemistry fell about and it would be his fault. If the press found out, then the team would be in the middle of a scandal and that's not what their team was about. Some stars attracted press and controversy, but they had never been one of them. They were pretty much a group of nice, normal guys who came out to play the game, and play the game well.

Anything else was unnecessary baggage and took away from the game. Their fans liked that image, they were a family friendly team of sorts, and it certainly wasn't his place to change that. He didn't want them to be the team 'with the gay Keeper'.

And, more than all of that, he did kind of like keeping his private life private. Sure, it seemed to mean that in order to achieve that he couldn't have a private life, but he also didn't want to be a story for the Daily Prophet to pick apart and trash however they saw fit, in order to get people to read.

"Hey there." A soft voice beckoned for him and he turned. What appeared to be a woman, thought considering the situation he had his doubts, with curly blond hair and dark red, thick lipstick smiled at him. He blinked once, offered a small smile, then kept walking.

The only downside to this was that the only people one encountered out here were freaks and other people with something to hide.

Sure, he was a believer in 'to each their own', but sometimes he wondered if he wasn't getting a little too old for all of this. Sure, for some it was timeless but, and maybe it was the romantic in him, but he had dreams of…being happy, one day.

Sex for the sake of sex wasn't exactly something that made him overwhelmingly happy.

It was at this point, as he wandered down the cobblestone streets and contemplated being plastered and then going back to his hotel, that he heard it. A word often heard around this area, though usually in a playful or mocking manner. Not with the malice and hatred he heard in that voice.

"Faggot!"

Something sarcastic in Oliver wanted to point out that a faggot was a bundle of sticks, and a fag a cigarette, but the voice had a American accent to it, so he knew it'd be a lost cause. Americans had a very…unique way of viewing things that would never be effected by things like logic or common sense.

He didn't even think before going down the alleyway and drawing his wand. It wasn't as cliché as it sounded. It wasn't some dimly let, rat infested alley where people came to get off and some hapless gay man was tricked into following. It was fairly well lit and between two popular clubs, one of which had a side entrance that lead right into the alley.

There was just a general air of 'Never get involved' in this place, as it was built of secrets and a certain degree of shame plagued most who walked the streets, and so people were doing just that. Staying inside the club or hurrying back to the main street and being careful to avert their eyes and pretend they'd seen nothing.

But Oliver Wood had been, and still was, a Gryffindor through and through, and, as a Gryffindor, he couldn't just let someone be beaten in front of him. Especially not when it was four on one, and why was it that people had to have back up in order to beat up one person anyway?

Whatever happened to a fair fight?

He grabbed one guy by the collar and slammed him into a brick wall, face first. He fell to the ground, nose busted open and oozing blood.

And everything stopped.

The other three were so surprised that they actually froze in place. They hadn't expected any retaliation. Obviously. It was kind of sad that ninety-nine percent of the time they would have been dead on in that belief but, unfortunately for them, this wasn't one of those times.

Funny, in the back of his mind he could just hear his coach yelling about him being an idiot and exposing himself for the sake of some guy he didn't know. Oh well…

It was one thing to risk being a hypocrite, it was another to let something like this go on. It wasn't something he could do and then be able to look himself in the mirror when morning came around.

For a moment no one moved then the three apperated away (Figures. Its all fun and games until its your ass that might get kicked), leaving him, the guy with the now broken (if not shattered) nose, and the guy on the ground. Speaking of whom, Oliver should really do something about him…

Medical type…things had never been his strong suit, in spite of how much time he spent in the infirmary and hospital for broken limbs, busted noses, strained muscles and a wide assortment of cuts and bruises. He couldn't really do a simple charm for healing a scraped knee, let alone gauge how beat up a person was.

For a moment he was stricken silent by the amount of…red there was everywhere. Then, it took a moment for him to realize, he saw that some of the red wasn't blood, but hair. He let his eyes drift for a moment, taking in the bits of pale, freckled skin that weren't covered or marred with the beginnings of bruises, the broken pair of glasses a few feet away…

He knew this guy.

"Shit. Shit shit shit." He whispered, cool demeanor cracking the moment who he'd saved sunk in. And, once that sunk in, he knew he faced a very hard choice.

At first he'd been planning to take this guy to the nearest hospital, his own reputation be damned if it came down to it, but now it wasn't just his image at stake.

He hadn't known Percy Weasley particularly well in school, in spite of being the only Gryffindors sorted into their year and sharing a dorm room for seven years. They'd run with different crowds; Oliver more with other Quidditch players and Quidditch fans, and Percy more with the Prefects and Head boys and girls. Those types who loved and cherished the rules, no matter what, and they hadn't exactly meshed well with the loud, raucous bunch Oliver preferred.

Besides, Percy had always seemed a little…boring and predictable to Oliver. Not to mention lacking in a sense of humor…he hadn't been able to really relate to all of the seriousness and caution Percy was all about.

That wasn't really the point though. Percy was, from what Oliver knew, the youngest Minister in the Ministry of Magic, ever. He'd taken over is fathers old position when Arthur Weasley became Minster of Magic last year.

He wouldn't want anyone knowing he was gay, let alone the fact he'd been bashed for it.

So, slight change in plans.

Oliver crouched down next to Percy, trying to see if the redhead was at least conscious. For a moment he didn't even dare breath, then unfocused blue eyes cracked open. Percy let out a breath of air and tried to sit up, but Oliver put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"I know Weasleys tend to be very stubborn people, but it's probably best you stay put." Percy didn't say anything. His eyes slid shut and Oliver felt a brief moment of panic, before realizing he'd just passed out.

Understandable.

He had to think about this calmly and rationally. Where could he take Percy? He didn't know anyone in London that he'd trust to keep their mouths shut, he didn't know where Percy lived, didn't think Percy would appreciate risking the hospital and…

The hotel. The team had a doctor and Oliver knew she'd keep everything to herself. She was really handy in that her contract said she couldn't disclose anything that didn't directly effect the way a team member played the game.

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It occurred to Oliver, as he watched the woman heal Percy's wounds and clean the drying blood from his skin and hair, that he didn't even know her name. That little revelation didn't motivate him to ask or anything, but it was an interesting thing to notice.

This woman saw him at his most vulnerable, like the time he'd gotten the flu and been too sick to move for days and she'd been at his bedside, taking care of him. She kept him and the rest of the team healthy and yet he didn't even know her name. How old she was, where she was from, what it was like being the only female surrounded by a bunch of men, who weren't exactly high on the 'gentlemanly' scale all of the time.

He wondered, for a moment, if she had a family she was working to support or if she was single and enjoying all the traveling they did around the globe.

"I've done what I can." She straightened up. "I healed the most serious of the wounds. I left a list of them, so he can have them looked at later on, just in case. He'll be in a lot of pain, but that just means he's healing. Some painkillers will solve the pain just fine." She handed him a slip of paper, which he looked at, only half-interested. "He still has a lot of cuts and bruises and he may have trouble walking for a while, since his left foot is starting to swell up. I'll look at it again later on."

"Thanks." He said, shoving the paper into his pocket. He'd grab whatever the hell it was in the morning. She nodded, gathering up her things.

"It was my pleasure. It's a shame some people just can't let others be." She shot a very loaded look in his direction and he squirmed a little. She reminded him of his mother, calm and all knowing. It was creepy. "However, if you don't mind me saying, I think your friend is a lot nicer than some of the girls your teammates decide to bring along. Those girls all seem to have fame in their eyes and money on their voices."

It took a moment for Oliver to realize what exactly she was implying, both about the others guys' girlfriends and wives, and about Percy. He felt his cheeks turn red.

"Ah, no, it's not…he's just a friend of mine."

"Of course he is Mr. Wood." She smiled mockingly. "Just let it be said, if I had a choice, I'd rather my youngest bring home boys who looked like him, if not so hurt, than the ones I see so much of." She patted him on the shoulder as she went past. "Now, be a good lad and refrain from any strenuous activity. I doubt he'll be up for any for some time. And be very patient. Even after he's all healed up on the inside, things on the inside will take much longer."

Oliver frowned and crossed his arms over his chest. "I would like to go on record and say I have no idea what the hell you're talking about."

"Of course not." She opened the door and waved at him over her shoulder. "I'll be back tomorrow."

Oliver stood for a few minutes after she left, not sure what to do. Finally he sighed and walked over to the bedroom and glanced inside. Percy was asleep/unconscious in his bed. He took in the redhead slowly.

His hair had grown over the years and fanned out around him. His skin was a milky white and freckles sprinkled his face. Without the glasses that he'd worn since the moment Oliver first met him, his face seemed softer…less stern and teacher-esq. He looked like someone Oliver might have flirted with in a bar, as opposed to tried to avoid while in school.

He turned away, suddenly feeling as if he were intruding, and resigned himself to sleeping on the couch in the front room. He didn't mind much. Besides, it wasn't like this was a long-term deal. Just until Percy woke up and could tell Oliver where he lived or something.

Because, as much as he hated the idea of just ditching Percy somewhere, he could not afford to get involved... He had too much riding on keeping his secret just that...a secret.


	2. Wildfire Borne of Frustration

Wounded

Soclosetolife: You'll see a lot of that sarcasm, as I happen to be a very sarcastic person myself. The more serious a situation, the more sarcastic I get.

Inkwick: I don't know about one of the best. While the P/O Fandom isn't huge or anything…there are a lot of really great stories on ff.net. I'm glad you like my Oliver, since he'll be the 'narrator' of the entire story.

Nott: I'd like to think I'll do an okay job, but there won't be much of the other mentioned pairings, so hopefully it won't matter a lot. And thanks…I like my taste in music too. LOL

Andrei: That's true enough.

And, also, thanks to JWGrey, Louis, Kazza, and Lillebox. Thank you all so much for the reviews, I appreciate all the feedback.

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Chapter Two

Wildfire Borne of Frustration

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Oliver walked into the Muggle pharmacy, looking around. What he needed was a painkiller, so he figured he could find it here. He really didn't want to risk someone seeing him at a Wizarding shop and having to explain why he was buying them.

The general thought was that if a person was buying painkillers, they were mere steps from addiction. Never mind that some people tore muscles and broke bones…what the press wanted was to tear people apart and spit out their bones.

…Well, maybe not that dramatic, but damn close.

"Can I help you?" The man behind the counter looked to be about forty-ish with graying black hair and sparking brown eyes. Oliver handed him the slip of paper the team doctor had given to him and watched him read it. "You're in luck, we just got some of this in today… It's not for you, is it?" He peered at him over a pair of half-moon glasses, looking very serious.

"No sir." Oliver said politely. "A friend of mine had a…accident."

"Oh." He nodded. "Well, if that's the case, you'll need to watch your friend very carefully. These pills are no joking matter lad; depending on the dosage a person could take a leave of their senses, fall asleep suddenly, see things."

As he spoke he walked away from Oliver and began to look over his shelves of pill bottles. He picked up a small orange one and walked back over to him.

"Here we are. Now, remember what I said. Watch carefully." He handed Oliver the bottle then went to his cash register. "Will you be wanting anything else?"

"Umm…" Oliver looked around to see if there was anything he might want and, after a moment, decided on a candy bar. He really shouldn't be eating anything like that (strict diet and all) but damn if he wasn't in the mood for chocolate.

He drew out a wallet that contained a fair amount of Muggle money and paid. He kept the wallet because, as much as some wizards like to believe it, he knew there was no way in hell he'd ever get everything he needed on a day to day basis in the wizarding world. Sometimes you needed the Muggles to get by.

He walked back to the hotel, just…enjoying the early morning peace. London wasn't the most restful of places, so a chance to walk around and not worry about being run over by a bus or stray pedestrian and be able to hear yourself speak was a nice change. It was nearly six in the morning, so it'd be busy and full soon enough.

Their hotel was mostly inhabited by Muggles; so they'd been ordered to keep all magic to a strict minimum, least someone see it. And, considering that the Minister of Muggle Artifacts and Encounters (from what Oliver understood the last bit had been added when Percy took the job.) was laid up in his bed, that wouldn't be a good thing.

Or else it'd be oddly convenient.

And yet he noticed Jones and Malarkey talking to some girls in the lobby and claiming they could show them magic tricks. Sure, Oliver knew they were just trying to get into the girls' knickers, but if they didn't keep it down they'd get fined for mentioning magic around Muggles.

Ugh.

He was starting to sound like Perfect Percy, as Fred and George had called their brother back in school. Speak of the twins, next time he had some days off he was going to have to go and visit their shop. They'd promised him some choice tricks at a discount price.

He reached into his pocket and took out his key card. The first time he'd gotten one of these electronic things he'd been entranced for hours, wondering how Muggles had managed to get this kind of magic. He'd been pretty embarrassed when the coach had explained it to him…

He had to admit, for people without magic, Muggles got along pretty well.

The doctor was inside, sitting next to a frazzled looking Percy on his couch turned bed. He arched an eyebrow at the woman and she smiled pleasantly.

"Well, I told you I'd be back to check on you and your boyfriend." He opened his mouth to correct her, but she was on her feet and pulling things out of her bag and had effectively forgotten his presence. "Now, Percy was it, I don't want you trying to do too much too fast, so we're going to start out with soup and tea. I hope you don't mind beef, my son were buy last night and ate me out of chicken broth and then didn't leave so much as a thank you note."

She sighed as she pulled a bowl of steaming liquid from her purse, followed by a mug of what Oliver assumed was tea. Oliver wondered what spell she had to keep everything from becoming one big sopping mess, but decided not to ask. Instead he walked over to the couch and sat on the arm. Percy looked at him and Oliver couldn't help but wince slightly.

One of Percy's eyes had a path on it, because it would be very sensitive to light for some time, his lip was split and the entire left side of his face was purple and puffy.

Percy must have caught the gesture, because he looked away and closed his eyes. Oliver frowned, wanting to say something but not knowing what in the world he could possibly say. He didn't want to make Percy feel any worse than he possibly did, but Oliver had never been one of those…'good with words and comfort' types of people.

He didn't get long to think about it, because he noticed the woman was glaring at him. He shrank back a little bit, reminded of his grandmother just a little bit too much for his liking.

She walked over and pushed the tea into Percy's hands. "You drink that now and when you're done Mr. Wood here will give you the soup. I have things to which I must attend and I'm sure you don't want some over-protective old woman hanging around you two." She patted his shoulder in a gesture that seemed to be soothing, without being pitying. "I'll be back in a few hours."

Percy managed a small smile, which she returned, before gathering her things and walking out, closing the door softly behind her.

Oliver blinked, swallowing some, then held up his bag, trying not to feel overly silly. "I bought you the painkillers she told me to get. The guy said they had a lot of side effects so someone would have to watch you."

Percy nodded, fingers wrapping around the mug tightly. "Maybe Penny will."

"Oh." Oliver said then sighed. 'That was quite deep and meaningful Wood, what next? I should never open my mouth…ever.' "I hadn't thought you were still together."

He couldn't keep the disapproval from his tone and hated himself for it…it had been a stupid thing to say. Percy wouldn't be the first guy in the world to have the pretty wife and perfect family at home, while 'enjoying the company of other men' when his wife wasn't around.

Still, Oliver had to admit it made him…uneasy. …Okay, he thought it was a horrible cowardly thing to do, but who was he to judge what anyone else-

"Aren't." Percy said, blowing on his tea. "Married Flint. Two years."

Oliver squinted at him. "You married Flint?"

Percy dropped his mug, which bounced on the carpeted floor but didn't splash them, and stated at him, eye as wide as a saucer and seemingly on the verge of taking leave from his head. (Oliver wanted to kick himself for noticing that without his glasses on, Percy's eyes were a very clear blue, with gray flecks, which he found attractive.) Oliver bent down and grabbed up the mug.

The moment it was upright it refilled with tea. Oliver had to confess that was a very handy trick.

"Sorry."

"Its okay. And I take it that's a no?"

Percy nodded, drawing his legs up to his chest. A stray lock of hair fell into his face and Oliver wanted to reach up and tuck it behind his ear and damn his Gryffindor loyalty straight to hell. Sometimes he really wished he could care just a little bit less about people.

"So Penny married Flint. Weird. I never say Flint as the marrying type…mostly I never thought there'd be a woman that des…umm…" He trailed off and looked back at the wet spot in the carpet. The pink was now turning brown from the tea and he realized it would probably stain. Cleaning spells had been another area Oliver had been pretty deficient in.

He couldn't believe he'd been about to say that Penelope must have been desperate to marry Flint. He really should just stop talking; there was no way he was making things better by talking.

Percy's lips quirked. "She loves him. I don't get it."

"I doubt she gets it." Oliver said, glad to have been given an easy out. "You're still friends then? If she'd be willing too look after you?"

Percy nodded and tilted his head back. Oliver noticed the bruises along his throat and tilted his head off to the side, for the first time realizing how short and to the point Percy's words had been. In school Percy had always been one for long, drawn out explanations and any story he told had to have the whole background and events leading to it told first. Three word statements weren't his usual fare.

"It hurts to talk." Oliver said, frowning. Percy looked down at him, blinking. "You, it hurts you to talk. Your throat." Oliver saw how Percy's hand twitched, like he wanted to tough his throat but didn't want Oliver to see him do it. "You should have said something."

"It's fine."

"I may not be a healer, but I'm not an idiot either." Oliver said, standing up then looking at the bag the pills were in. He wondered how Percy was going to swallow those if just speaking hurt.

"I didn't-"

"Oh, shut it." Oliver said, handing him his mug. Percy took it and frowned, looking a little…well, Oliver wasn't sure how to describe the look. It was…open. Vulnerable. Worried. He looked away hurriedly, not wanting to see Percy looking at him like that. "I can live without being talked to, you know, I'm not that hard up for amusement. Last night notwithstanding."

He glanced back, hoping the look was gone and finding that it was. Thank god.

For a moment Percy looked startled, then his lips twitched again. Who knew, Percy Weasley had a sense of humor. Oliver sighed and stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants, then looked around. They had to leave the hotel the next morning. They had a short break coming up after their next game in Ireland, two weeks. It was mandatory; otherwise Oliver wouldn't have bothered with it.

He had a healthy chunk of off time just sitting around. He hadn't thought Quidditch players got vacation time, since they were technically off in the Off-season, but they did. A week a year, but Oliver never too advantage. Honestly, what the hell was he going to do, sit around with his parents?

Was there anything more pathetic?

Oliver shook his head to clear it, not sure why he was even thinking about such things. He'd track down Penny later on, after Percy got a little more rest, and see about her checking in on him. He'd go to Ireland, play his game, then go home and sleep for two weeks.

And he probably would only see Percy in the papers, until they got together for their twenty-year reunion. It wasn't like they were friends or had anything in common.

Just two pathetic guys with identical secrets they couldn't let out for the sake of image.

He sighed, and Percy arched an eyebrow at him. He waved off the other man's questioning gaze easily. "I've got practice in a few hours, so I'll have to leave you alone."

"It's fine." Percy said, ignoring his baleful look. "I'll be out of your hair soon."

"Sure." Oliver sad then nodded towards the bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower." Percy nodded and, with one last glance at the redhead, shuffled into the bathroom and pulled the door shut after him.

He turned on the water and stripped off his clothes. He was still a little sore from the last game, but it wasn't anything serious. Just the usual aches and pains. He'd learned to live with them back in school. Quidditch had always been a huge part of his life though and, contrary to popular belief, it wasn't his entire life.

Well, it was now. But that too was for the sake of an image. He didn't have a wife or kids or a girlfriend or even girls that he took out, so when people asked him about his relationships he lied and said he didn't have time. If he'd wanted to make time, he could have.

He just…hadn't. Couldn't.

He rubbed at a sudden kink in his shoulder, trying to ease it. Massage was one of the areas he'd excelled in (And he had a few guys in his past that would happily attest to the fact. He may have been discreet and trying to abstain, but he wasn't a total prude…) so he didn't have to bother the doctor with all the same stuff the other guys did. (Which was probably why he didn't know her name.)

Normally the pressure combined with the warm, bordering on hot, water would have the kink eased out in moments, but he found he couldn't relax. He rotated his shoulder for a moment then leaned against the tiles with a groan.

He was stressed out. He hadn't even known he was stressed out, but he was. His muscle aches always got worse and harder to handle when something was on his mind. He figured it was his subconscious' way of telling him he had stuff he needed to sort out. It was very effective.

He bit his lip and reached for one of the little bottles of shampoo the hotel provided, when a dull thud made him freeze. This was followed with thick silence and Oliver, deciding that he was better off being cautious, got out. He wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, poking his head out of the bathroom.

He didn't see Percy at first and took a few steps out. He doubted Percy could have gotten more than a few steps on his own, considering how swollen his foot had been. He was proven right when he got around the couch and found Percy sitting not three steps away, clutching his foot and looking somewhere between anger and crying.

Percy jumped when he touched his shoulder and glanced up. Unshed tears made his eye misty, but the redhead blinked furiously; clearly not wanting Oliver to see how much pain he was in.

That was the Infamous Weasley Pride in effect. Oliver didn't mind, as long as he wasn't exposed to the even more famous Weasley Temper, he figured he had nothing to worry about. He reached down and helped Percy to his feet then gestured for the redhead to lean on him and take weight off of the swollen foot.

"I'm not sure what you were aiming for but on the grounds that you hurting yourself more isn't something that I would consider productive, I think back to the bedroom would be our best bet."

Percy didn't say anything and, the fact he'd told him to shut it slipping his mind for an instant, he looked down at the slightly shorter man (Not much shorter of course, as Oliver had been the only person taller than Percy when they graduated, and that was only because of a last minute growth spurt.) to find Percy was bright red and staring at his chest.

Oliver swallowed, trying not to blush himself.

There was that whole, he wasn't wearing any clothes element to consider, now that he considered it. He was pretty sure he could hold both his towel and Percy up though…he was hoping anyway.

They walked, slowly much to Oliver's dismay, back to the bedroom and Percy sat down heavily. The blush was gone and now he just looked tired and upset. Oliver hovered by the doorway for a moment while Percy got situated, wondering if now was one of those moments when a person was supposed to say something or do something, in order to make the other person feel better.

He wasn't sure about things like deep, poignant moments…

Then Percy looked up at him and whatever moment there may have been, Oliver had the presence of mind to know it was long gone by now. He slipped out of the room quickly and headed back to the bathroom.

All of a sudden he felt very uncomfortable. He'd shared a room with the guy for seven years, had slept all of five feet away from him through all of those awkward puberty moments, and **now** he was uncomfortable.

Figured.


End file.
